Diary of a Cutter
by starggg
Summary: Ever wonder why people hurt themselves? Well, Hermione Granger can tell you first hand...


Diary of a Cutter

By lilyandjamesforever

Hello there, my name is Hermione Granger and I have a story to tell. It all began in the summer before my sixth year…

One day I was sitting in my room reading when a strange owl swooped in through my window. It landed on my bed and poked me in the arm with its beak. Wincing from the peck, I took the letter from it and gave it a treat. After it ate the treat, it regarded me haughtily and then flew out the window again. I opened the letter and read:

To Hermione Granger,

We, The Society of the Cool at Hogwarts, have decided to revoke your membership indefinitely. From now on, you will be shunned by all who are considered cool. Sincerely,

Lavender Brown

Head of the Society of the Cool

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

I stared at the letter, in shock. For as long as I could remember, I had been in the Society of the Cool. "What had happened?" I wondered, "What had changed?" All of my friends were in the Society of the Cool, and now I had lost them all. It was too much to bear. Before you say anything, you must know that I have never been good at expressing my emotions in a healthy way. I always yelled and screamed at the deliverer of bad news. But since the person to yell at was not here, and I had no one to take my anger out on, I took it out on myself. And so it began. Cursing myself for doing something wrong, not being cool enough perhaps, I slammed my fist into the wall. First came the pain, but then relief. "Why do I suddenly feel calmer?" I wondered. I had a theory. I punched the wall again, and another wave of pain mixed with relief came. I had found the solution to my problems.

The bad habits continued. From then on whenever I was upset I would hurt myself. You see, physical pain is easier to deal with than emotional pain. I wasn't really curing myself, just pushing the pain away for a while. But either way, whether it was cutting myself with a razor or digging my nails into my sides or hitting walls, it always worked. Soon it became an addiction. I did it more and more often, even when I didn't need the relief.

After I went back to school, it was harder to do it when I needed to. I had to sneak out at night to hurt myself. Stabbing myself with a knife and watching myself bleed always relieved the pain. But this habit or sleeplessness soon made more than I suffer. My grades began slipping and my friendship with Harry and Ron began to deteriorate. Soon, I was all alone in the world. No one understood me. I began to dress in black and hide out in corners alone and the like. People called me the loner, the Goth of Hogwarts, the freak in black. When I couldn't cut, I wrote poetry to express myself.

People Nowadays

What's wrong with people nowadays?

They're all the same to me.

Why'd they have to be so mean?

I don't get why they don't see,

That what they do is hurtful

I know I'm not the only one.

There're tons of us in here

Who never see the sun

All we see is they,

They're bearing down on us.

We cower, but we're hopeful,

We never make a fuss.

But someday we will, oh yes,

And when you least expect it,

You'll wake up and see,

The puzzle piece will finally fit!

And then you'll realize what you've done,

To all of us, the crushed.

You're lucky; we forgive you,

For that is what we must.

We're not like you,

That's why you taunt.

But don't you see?

That what you flaunt,

It doesn't matter

Anymore.

For we are dead,

Dead to the core.

You killed us all

And what you get

Is lots of guilt.

It sure does fit!

Note- This is my poetry, slightly altered for this story. The ending kind of sucks…

One day in late January, the day after an attack by Lord Voldemort, a letter came from the ministry addressed to me. I could have cared less, and almost crumbled it up without reading it, but something compelled me to read it anyway.

Dear Ms. Granger,

We regret to inform your parents have been killed in the recent attack by Lord Voldemort. We send our condolences. You are now a ward of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Sincerely,

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

Life suddenly became pain, and I decided that I couldn't take it anymore. I decided to end it all. After classes ended one day and everyone in my dorm was elsewhere, I decided to go through with it. I had filched a knife from the kitchens. Sitting on the floor, I pressed the knife to my throat and sliced. Deeper and deeper I pushed until the pain was too much to bear and I passed out.

So here I am, a ghost. I died that day on the floor of my dorm. By the time the other girls returned, I had lost enough blood to be unsalvageable. They still tried, but to no avail. No one mourned me, no one cared. But that's ok. I'm back here to make their lives a living hell! So now you know, rejection **can** kill you.


End file.
